Predator and Prey
by Catherine Flintlock
Summary: A revision of "Wolf's Cry." Based on the Mercy Thompson books by Patricia Briggs, this is the tale of the low wolf of the Appalachian Pack. But not all is as it seems with the submissive wolf, and her true nature will shock even her Alpha. OCs only. In progress.
1. Prologue

~ Prologue ~

A frosty howl shattered the silence. The seldom-heard call was answered in the distance as another took up the song. The cloud-shrouded night was shelter to the few remaining red wolves, but it was not their paws marring the dusting of snow. Not even the wolves would dare challenge the creatures running through the trees. Larger, infinitely stronger, they were the true predators.

The moon broke through the clouds for a brief moment, its light gilding gray fur silver and making foggy breaths odd lanterns. Darkness overtook them, but the thunder of their passing was felt by the shivering pines and oaks. They had yet to catch scent of their prey, driving them to search wider into more dangerous areas.

The main road to Cades Cove, a popular destination in the Great Smokey Mountains, was closed at night, granting them the safety that no stray headlights would find evidence of their passing. The winds would soon stir the snow enough to hide their prints. The park rangers would recognize the difference immediately if not for the wind. Red wolves did not leave prints the size of a man's palm.

Teeth flashed unseen as they ran, driven by hunger and the thrill of the chase. Every one of them ran hard and leapt over any obstacle. Frozen streams weren't even noticed. Logs posed no challenge. They just ran.

The moon had stirred them, full despite its veil of clouds. Deer were their prey, and they were found in abundance in Cades Cove. Passing tourists would often defy Rangers and feed them, teaching the deer humans were safe. Often, even fawns would walk straight up to cars, unafraid of the loud engines or louder people. There wereno fawns in this season, but the does and bucks stuck around. People loved Cades Cove in the winter but only with inches of snow blanketing everything. Being a lean season, the deer gathered where the people went, hoping for a few defiant humans to feed them a Cheetoh or Ritz. Even winter wasn't difficult for the deer. Their instincts were dulled from birth with their easy lives. It made them easy prey for the predators on the move.

The wind stirred with their passing, and each footfall blew up a cloud of snow in its wake. The snow dampened sound, muffled it. Hunting in the snow was easy. Even the crunch of every step traveled no farther than the next tree. Fur of gray, silver, black, and brown wove through the trunks of trees, leaping over any dried and barren bushes blocking their paths. Each breath was short, taking in scent while ears laid flat against the cold. Nothing could stop the creatures from running. Nothing would dare.

One howled for the sheer joy of freedom. Another answered with a yip, finally catching the scent of prey. The hunt was on.

Deer broke cover, bolting in their long-legged leaps. They ran for clearings, trying to use their speed to their advantage. But they were unused to the predators that chased. The deeper snow of the clearing slowed them down and bound their legs. The muscular bodies of the hunters plowed through the drifts, their greater mass causing them to sink deeper but that same bulk giving them the strength to break through each time, gaining on the doomed yet fleeing deer.

A snarl and a shriek signaled the first success, soon followed by another. The catch would be plenty this night, and well deserved. These were lean times for deer, but the predators would feast.

Some miles away from the hunters, a pair of headlights buried themselves into a snowbank. Upside down and out of sight from the road, the car was a death trap. Pinned between two guardian trees, it hovered on the brink of tumbling again, end over end down the ravine. The road to Cades Cove was steep at times, often without guardrails. Even Rangers had difficulty on the thin layers of ice formed of snow melted by the exhausts of the hundred-car caravans bent on seeing the old homestead.

Dangling from a seatbelt and pinned by the steering wheel, the driver was dying. The passenger was already dead, a tree branch breaking through the windshield and piercing the body and seat. The headline would probably read "Ice Danger: Rangers Found Dead in Cades Cove Accident."

But that headline would never reach the papers.

Two pairs of yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light reflected from the headlights. Their dark silhouettes bristled with excitement, and their breaths heated the air. On padded feet they prowled around the vehicle, scenting the air, stirred by the fresh blood. Ears pricked forward as the driver groaned before falling again into unconsciousness. A radio buzzed.

"Rivers, report."

Claws clicked against metal as one hunter peered into the car, nosing the body of the passenger.

"Rivers, where the hell are you?"

A growl. The screech of metal. A cold body soon lay on the ground, the limb that once pierced it made into kindling.

"I swear to god, Rivers, if you're looking at another owl nest…"

A pink tongue licked greedily at the blood staining the passenger seat. But the hunter soon lost interest in the upholstery-tainted meal. Snorting and wiping its nose, it turned and nosed the driver once more, getting no response. The hunter outside whined, on the lookout and getting anxious. They had been gone a while, and the hunt was happening without them. They would miss out on the fresh meat. A growl silenced it.

Teeth made quick work of the seatbelt, but the steering wheel still held firm. Careful nudging and pulling of clothing removed the driver, though the hunter had to move quickly to keep the driver from hitting the roof of the car. A groan was the only response to the sudden change in position. Teeth latched into shirt collar, the hunter dragged the driver from the car, yellow eyes thirsty and instincts demanding blood.

"Rivers, is Burke with you?"

Snow muffled twin growls and a very human mumble.

"Rivers stay put. I'm sending help."

The headline would never be published. In its place, the words would read, "Ice and Wolves: USFS Truck Crashed in Park, 1 Ranger Dead, 1 Missing."


	2. Chapter 1

~ Chapter 1 ~

Sometimes I wish I were human. Only having to worry about when the rent was due or if there were groceries in the fridge would be a boon. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with this woman's overwhelming perfume. I mean really. Whoever came up with that scent obviously had no nose. Oh wait. Brittany Spears perfume. Probably from Macy's. Which meant the woman wasn't local.

Oh joy.

"Oh aren't these the cutest keychains?"

Nope. Definitely tourist. And from her accent, Charleston.

"Now, do you suppose these'll shrink in the wash?"

"They're pre-shrunk cotton ma'am. I'm sure they'll be just fine."

Really, it was incredibly hard to keep a smile with customers like this coming in every five minutes.

"Oh really? So you're positive?"

And if she was worrying that much about cotton teaching, she had bigger issues the dealing with my fake courtesy.

"Absolutely ma'am. That'll be $56.73, please."

Without another complaint—thankfully—the woman hands over her card, and I run it through the machine, wishing the card reader would speed up. Or the credit process faster. Or the receipt printer hurry up. Anything to get this woman and her god-awful perfume away from me.

"If I could get your signature…"

In another minute, I was smiling and handing her a paper bag filled with tourist merchandise. This time, the smile was genuine. The tourist was leaving which made me a very happy checker.

Too bad her perfume lingered in the air. Raising a finger to the next customer in line, I turned around to blow my nose. Though it'd be more accurate to say I snorted into the tissue and disguised it as a mild cold. It helped a bit with the perfume smell, but now I had tissue scent in my nose too.

It just wasn't my day.

Throwing away the tissue, I turn around to thank the customer for their patience, but the words stick in my throat as another scent assaults me.

Cigar smoke.

"Afternoon, sir," I say automatically, wondering just what brings my boss out of his office. Yes, the gift shop had a separate office. But this was Cherokee, the city named after the Indian nation that used to live in the area. Before the Trail of Tears, of course. They'd reclaimed it since then. And established a tourist trap. But it was an easy place for someone like me to get a job, and it was in an actual store, unlike some of the National Park's gift shops. In those, it'd be hard to hide. Here, Cherokee had a sixth sense for the unnatural or something. For some reason, I still had a job despite that.

"Why'd you come to work sick?" he said without preamble, his Native-tanned skin only a couple shades darker than my own. Maybe that was why it was easy to get a job. I looked Cherokee. It helped that I was a quarter Cherokee.

"Just a mild cold," I lied without meeting his gaze. Mr. Joseph Ravensnest might have been just Indian, but I'd swear he could tell a lie as easily as any werewolf. Did they exist? Oh yeah. They were not just stories to scare children into submission. Too bad I was easily scared into submission. Even by my perfectly human boss.

"Hnn." After another moment, Joseph turned around and left me alone, greeting one of the tourists with the stoic face everyone imagined on a red-skinned man with a waist-long black braid. It gave me room to breathe. At least that one woman's perfume was gone. Oh if only this day were over. How many hours until my shift was up? Even I knew my hearing wasn't _that_ strong, but I swore I could hear the clock ticking. A digital clock.

I really hated my heightened senses.

"Hey Sam."

Shit.

"Hey Neil."

_Now_ I smelled the distinct musk of wolf. Damn it. I really needed to work on that. But the gift shop had way too many smells to keep track of, what with all the traffic. Sure, maybe someone more experienced could pick each of them out, but I'd been working for 11 hours already and still had two left. Without meat for lunch. Peanut butter was not a good substitute. And Neil smelled like fresh blood which did not help my empty stomach or my nerves.

"Still working in this dump, I see." Ah Neil. So subtle. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Joseph stiffen and get that steely look in his eye, the look that always told me to be nicer to customers. But that Cherokee sixth sense must have kept him from upbraiding Neil, because he turned away, leaving me to deal with the wolf at the counter.

"It pays the rent," I said, hoping he would take the hint and leave. Neil and I, not the greatest of friends. We had history. Rough history.

"But not much more." Damn you, Neil. I gave him a quick glare, saw his grin, and remembered myself, dropping my gaze. Neil was fourth. I was last. No. Lower than last. A submissive. Heightened senses came with the territory, but not rank or strength. Looking him in the eye was only asking for trouble, and he'd given it to me several times. No scars, of course, thanks to the astounding healing rate, but I remembered them. And no doubt he did too.

And he smelled of blood. I wondered whose but didn't have the opening—or the guts—to ask. So I kept my head down and checked another customer out, pretending I didn't have a tall, scary predator standing over my shoulder. With him this close and a bit of focus, I determined the blood wasn't human or wolf. Maybe he'd been out hunting. Or even shopping. Sometimes those meatpackers did shoddy work.

My stomach growled. I ignored it and smiled to the man and his two kids as they walked out of the store with child-sized bows and arrows to match. Maybe I could borrow a set from Joseph. Then I could at least kill a rabbit or two and eat it before someone else stole it from me. Even rabbit sounded good after two days of peanut butter and rice and beans. When the customers had left and no one else was immediately in line—in fact the store was almost empty thanks to the late hour of 7, a fact I did not enjoy—Neil came around and leaned next to the till, pulling the dangerous rogue act that had won the heart of many a lady.

Why he did it to me, I never figured out.

Yet there he was. Playing with the souvenir keychains by hitting them with a souvenir pen. A wild grin on his face.

I checked the receipt printer's supply of tape.

"Seriously Sam," Neil conveniently interrupted my thrilling chore. "Get some more meat on your bones. It's not healthy." _Ah, here it comes_. "Let me take you out hunting sometime. I'll even let you have the heart."

That feeling that some women got when a total creeper hit on them, yeah. I was having that vibe. Of course, I knew Neil. He tried this with all the female wolves. Granted, there were only four in the pack, two of whom were mated. I wasn't one of them. His charms worked on human women as well, but I avoided them. Sometimes even normal women could sense something different about me.

Maybe I wasn't as good at control as I should have been.

Neil chuckled, and my eyes darted to him reflexively. First lesson I learned from my father: never take your eyes from a predator; always keep them in your sight. I dropped my gaze when Neil looked up. The till suddenly became very interesting as I cracked open a roll of dimes.

"Suit yourself," he said in that infuriatingly smooth way of his. But I could hear the underlying animal. Though his eyes stayed brown, I knew his wolf was close. Mine responded but calmed as Neil turned his back. He wasn't a threat with his back turned. "The offer still stands though, should you want a real meal and change your mind."

And then he was gone, taking the scent of blood and earth with him. I sighed and braced myself on the counter, closing my eyes as I regained control of my wolf once more. Neil must have seen my hunger. That was why he offered the hunt and the heart. The heart was the most tender… I grit my teeth, desperately hoping my eyes were their normal gray when I looked up.

The kid at the counter stared at me, eyes wide.

"Can I help you find something?" I asked lamely, knowing perfectly well my eyes were still shifting if that kid's face was any indication.

Instead of answering, the kid just walked off, looking over his shoulder at the weird lady behind the counter and calling for his mommy.

A hand on my shoulder had me leaping out of my skin. By the time I'd turned around, my heart was racing and my eyes were definitely not gray judging by the growl in the back of my head and sudden craving for violence.

Joseph didn't even flinch, only strengthening my theory that he knew perfectly well what I was.

"Go home, Sam," he said in that resonant voice of his. It always calmed my wolf for some reason. I felt her retreat and relax under this dominant presence, even if Joseph was human and not wolf. A flicker of interest lit Joseph's eyes for a moment, but I quickly dropped my gave, muttering a thanks under my breath. "And do as he says," he continued as I turned to leave. "Go get some food in you. I could hear your stomach from across the store."

Not waiting another minute, I closed my till and headed out the door. It might have only been a little after seven, but it was chilly outside. Even in September, frost still lined blades of grass as winter made her presence known. The few customers settling their goods into cars cast some curious looks my way as I walked through the parking lot without a jacket. I could feel their eyes on me and cast covert glances to be sure. There was that kid again, pointing and whispering to his mom about the woman with "cool changy eyes." I ducked my head and hurried on, turning down the street.

After a few blocks of fast walking, I was far enough away from the shop and ducked down another side street, this one ending just a few feet shy of a stream bank. Not caring about the dirt and mud, I slid down the steep drop until my feet hit water. I hated changing with wet feet, but fur would be far warmer than my polo.

So close to the full moon it was a risk changing, but my stomach was empty, and hunting rabbits was free. I wasn't lying when I told Neil my job paid the rent. It paid it alright, but barely. Meat was expensive. Rabbits were free. Thus my mind was made up. Near full moon or not, I was hunting. Even if I had to settle for a squirrel.

The porch light was on by the time I got back to my house, telling me my two roommates were home. I growled. I hated changing with them in the house, but changing outside and walking in naked was very much out of the question. At least I was in control for the moment. My wolf was satisfied for the time being with three rabbits and two squirrels for the night's meal, so I was able to make the decision to go through the doggy door.

Yep. Cologne and sweat socks. My roommates were definitely home. And watching Monday Night Football. Good. They wouldn't hear my change over the TV.

"'Ey Sam," one of them, Chuck by the sound of it, must have heard the door flap shut or my claws on the wood floor.

"Hi Sam," Paul said mechanically, too into the game to pay me any mind. I snorted. The two of them were not submissives like me, but so low in the pack they might as well have been. Neither of them were strong by any means, but both were far stronger than me. They left me alone most nights, especially during football season. Or any sports season, really. The break between the World Series and opening day of the NFL was the worst time.

Carrying my clothes in my mouth—they tasted like dirt and clay from where I'd hid them while hunting—I trotted up to the loft, thankful for once that I didn't have a door to open. Wolf paws were not suited for turning doorknobs. I really needed to convince Chuck and Paul to install handles instead. Dumping my clothes in my laundry basket, I trotted to the bathroom and shook off what debris and dirt I could. My feet dragged as I returned to my room, and I seriously considered sleeping as a wolf. But if someone woke me, I'd have no control of my wolf.

Human it was then.

I hopped onto my bed and nosed my way under the blankets, wriggling around until I'd managed to get my head on my pillow and my tail at a comfortable angle. My blankets were a wreck, but at least they were warm. I'd have to wash them in the morning, or take a lint roller to them. Something to get the wolf hair off. Closing my eyes, I sighed and tried to relax into the change.

The tip given to me shortly after my first full moon never helped. How someone could relax through this, I'd never know. I tried to keep my noises to a minimum. Paul and Chuck were wolves after all. They'd hear me during quieter commercials or the game commentary. It took a while, far longer than I'd seen some wolves change. But my wolf struggled the whole way, fighting my tentative control.

A full quarter of the game went by before I was in my own body again. I swore I could feel the thread count of my sheets for how sensitive my skin was after every change. My muscles screamed for several long minutes as they readjusted to my new bone structure.

I must have fallen asleep somewhere between the muscle-shifting and nerve-adjusting stages of the change, because the next time I woke up, I stared straight into the yellow eyes of a wolf.


	3. Chapter 2

~ Chapter 2 ~

With bright yellow eyes staring straight into mine, it was perfectly understandable my sudden and very strong desire to dive off the bed. Too bad heavy paws braced themselves on either side of my head, effectively pinning me. The wolf growled, showing fang, and not even my shock could keep my eyes on his. Yes. His. I knew it beyond any shred of doubt. The female wolves wouldn't growl at me. Besides, he _smelled_ male. Being this intimate with very deadly teeth snarling at me, I couldn't tell who it was, but he was strong. That was obvious.

Seeing that I was very much awake, the wolf kindly stepped off me, giving me room to breathe. My instinct was to grab the blanket and use it as a cover as I sat up quickly, keeping my head down at all times. Strong wolves could be temperamental, and since I could only catch glimpses of his appearance, I couldn't tell who this male was. Not without a proper look.

He growled, and the next thing I knew was the tug of pack magic, drawing my wolf out and forcing the change on me. It was painfully long, much longer than even last night. I couldn't change often. I wasn't strong enough. Even if I had a proper diet, I wouldn't be strong enough. By the time my wolf surfaced, even she was too tired to fight my control. She let me take the reins again, content to watch and wait, maybe even rest. I couldn't help the whimper that escaped me as I tried to get my feet under me. After a moment's struggle I gave up, perfectly content to lie on my pillow, tangled in a blanket, even with a potential threat breathing down my neck.

My wolf-sensitive nose picked up traces of tobacco, grass, and water, all coming from the wolf on my bed. I dared a quick glance, not meeting his gaze but enough to see more of him, only to quickly place my head on the bed, my ears pinned back.

This was Mac, the pack second. There was no mistaking the distinct dark gray brindle along his back. And he always smelled of tobacco, even as a wolf. With a sniff, he turned his back on me and hopped onto the floor, already heading for the stairs. He cast a glance over his shoulder along with another small tug. It was all he was able to do with the pack magic. The alpha could do much more. But I followed, the instinct to obey the dominant wolf too strong.

Down the stairs and out the door, I followed Mac, wearily trying to keep up with his pace. He was heading away from the driveway, into the woods behind the house. I could smell the smoke of fireplaces nearby. Some of the pack lived in the area, in secluded cabins like mine tucked away into the woods, away from town. But Mac wasn't heading toward the other pack dwellings. When he hit the woods, he settled into a quick trot I had difficulty keeping up with. I even tripped over a log while leaping over it, managing to land in a heap before rolling to my feet.

Mac wasn't happy with my slowness.

I could easily hear his growl above the sound of my own breathing. I could even see his eyes flashing yellow as he looked back at my stumbling. I snarled and dug in my claws. I wasn't about to let him see my weakness.

By the time Mac stopped, my lungs burned, and I panted. I didn't realize there was another wolf around until his growl reached my ears. I tensed and lowered my head, not even daring to look up. My hair stood on end as I felt power wash over me.

Shit.

Alex.

I stood very still as he padded near, my skin tingling and hackles raised as his energy heated the air. At least that was what it felt like. I crouched down, tucking my tail as even my wolf-sister growled at my weakness. I knew Mac hated weak wolves but my own wolf? That stung.

Alex sniffed my shoulder. I could feel his muzzle rustle my fur. He had to bend down to do it. I was a small wolf at my tallest. Crouched submissively…I was downright miniscule. And Alex was a large wolf, even by wolf standards. I dared look up as he snorted and turned away, his tail waving behind him. His paw-prints in the scattered snow were much larger than mine. I checked.

Mac growled at me and tossed his head, immediately following the dark-furred shape of his alpha. Waiting another moment, I forced my tired legs to move, following several paces behind the two dominants.

The scent of blood reached my nose. The coppery scent had laced Alex and Mac's coats, but now it was nearly overwhelming. I could practically taste it. As the scent grew stronger, my stomach clenched painfully. When had I had dinner? Oh right. Three rabbits and two squirrels did not a dinner make. And I'd had peanut butter for lunch. I was starving.

My wolf was starving.

At the sight of the kill, I nearly lost control. The scent of blood, the possibility of fresh meat, the desire for a full belly, it all made controlling my wolf nearly impossible. She was right there, growling and hungry. Yet here I was, shivering and cold, watching as Alex took a bite of the still-steaming dear carcass. After another bite, Mac joined him. My wolf growled, angered by this show of dominance when she was so hungry. Two wolves could not polish off an entire deer, even the small whitetails of the Appalachians.

Alex stopped eating. He must have had his fill. Mac stopped a minute later and laid down nearby, licking his fur clean. Alex just looked at me, and I realized—a little too late—that I was looking straight at him. I dropped my eyes and heard him snort. The thin layer of snow crunched under his paws, echoing oddly in the enclosing fence of the hardwood and pine grove.

He bit my nose.

I jumped back, startled. Was I a pup to be bitten so? What had I done wrong? I just stared at him, too shocked to drop my eyes or head. His eyes flashed, and his mouth cracked open, revealing a pink tongue as he panted. Wait. Was he laughing at me? Without giving me a chance to think, he padded over and bit my ruff—he didn't have to bend down to do that—and pulled me. I dug my claws in, my wolf-sister not liking this in the least. Alex let go and snorted again. I moved my head before he could bite my nose again.

"Just eat the damn deer."

The voice caught me off guard.

When had Mac changed?

Alex yipped at him before looking at me, tail wagging but tongue no longing lolling. Apparently this all amused him. I ducked my head, and even my wolf felt chastened by the pack second. As I walked warily around Alex, the alpha barked and I felt the energy in the clearing shift as Mac changed again. That was a dominant trait, the ability to change multiple times. I certainly didn't have it, but there was Mac, changing back into his wolf with the ease of someone with a lot of power. I ducked my head lower as I passed under his yellow gaze.

Mac still wasn't happy with my weakness.

Keenly sensing the tension and smelling the testosterone, I took a small bite out of the deer's side, not daring to touch the backstrap or haunch, the two prized cuts of meat. Tough as the side was, it still tasted divine.

I don't know how long I ate, but by the time I finished, both my belly and my wolf was satisfied. The strongest members of the pack watched over me, and my wolf was content with the protection. Dominants protected those weaker than they, even if they grew frustrated like Mac. I moaned from where I lay, my belly stuffed to bursting. If I could have chosen where and when to die, it would have been right there.

But Mac nudged me with a growl.

I just rolled onto my side, sleepy after gorging myself on raw venison.

It earned me another nip on my nose. I growled without thinking, wanting nothing more than to just lie there all night and sleep off the best meal I'd had in months. I was nearly asleep in seconds, but Mac's teeth on my nose reminded me that there were more important wolves about.

I was on my feet in an instant, shaking grogginess from my head as my wolf fought to the surface, also drowsy from the gorging. This was not going well. I scanned from Alex to Mac, from Mac to Alex, trying to make sense of what was going on. Why bring me out here to feed on a kill? Why just me? Even I could smell my fear. Alex whined, and Mac snorted, tossing his tail as he turned his back on me. Oh good. At least I wasn't a threat to him. Alex watched him pad a few steps away and collapse in the snow, resting his head on his paws, watching us both with obvious impatience. Just because Mac was second and not alpha didn't mean he couldn't be annoyed with Alex occasionally. Or so I guessed from their interaction, or lack thereof.

Alex looked back to me and cocked his head slightly. I dropped my head a couple inches and looked up at him, looking firmly at his nose, not his eyes. His nose was safe, and I could still see his eyes for clues. Too bad his eyes and posture was expressionless, leaving his thoughts his own. I shivered as he walked over to me, afraid I was about to get more than a nip on the nose.

This was my first interaction with the pack alpha. I had no idea who he was. We'd never been formally introduced. Sure, Paul and Chuck had told me of him, and Neil had hinted of him through conversations, but this was my first actual meeting of the pack's alpha.

And I thought Neil was strong. Next to Mac and Alex, he was a kitten.

I tensed as Alex got closer. He certainly didn't ease my nerves by circling around me. Why did I suddenly feel like a piece of meat up for inspection? Why feed me only to kill me a minute later? I really did expect to be attacked. After all, I'd looked at him, met his gaze and didn't drop it immediately. I'd eaten his kill—though part of me reminded my panicking brain that Mac _had_ told me to eat. But here I was, surrounded by two dominants and me a submissive.

What else was I supposed to think?

Neil always made it very clear the position of submissives in the pack. I was one of two, the other a male with a job at a convenience store near the highway. Every other member of the 35-wolf pack, including to four other females, were all dominant. Every one of them. Neil had made sure I'd known the names of the top ten, of which he was the sixth. He'd taught me about the pack, told me my place as a submissive was to stay out of the way and keep my head down. To let the dominants take care of me and the pack. He'd told me how violent some dominants could be toward weaker pack members.

Was that about to happen to me?

I closed my eyes, bracing for the attack I neither smelled nor felt. Instead, Alex stepped up to me and nudged my chin. Neil had told me of that too. Alex was giving me permission to look at him.

His golden eyes were pure wolf.

I crouched but still looked at him, not receiving permission to look away. He cocked his head, and I got the distinct impression he was curious. The pack magic—which he controlled as the alpha—stirred in me, and my wolf stirred as well. Alex was pulling on something…

My feet were wet.

As was the rest of me.

Moaning, I opened my eyes only to be met with the unattractive view of my bathroom ceiling. The shower was running, and the rest of me was wet too. Holding my head, I sat up, closing my eyes against the bright light and white tile. Soggy red and brown fur was everywhere.

Apparently I'd changed after a bath.

Grabbing a towel, I rubbed my forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. They always happened when I changed too often. And six times in one day was pushing it even for a dominant wolf. No doubt it had taken me a very long time indeed to change the sixth time. But my stomach was still full, so it couldn't have been that long ago.

Drying myself, I notice small nicks and cuts already starting to heal on my hands and feet. The fresh meat gave my body the energy it needed to heal as rapidly as a wolf could. Even as I watched, the cuts disappeared, making me wonder how I got them in the first place.

What the hell happened?

Wrapping the towel around myself, I staggered to my feet, my head protesting violently by throbbing and distorting my vision. Damn migraines. Walking out of the bathroom—thankfully my own—I decided to clean the fur up later. Listening to the TV downstairs, I determined that Chuck and Paul were still watching whatever game was on. Or maybe it was the next game. I didn't know. It was still dark outside; that much I could tell.

And my wolf was quiet.

That was new.

Mentally shrugging, I managed to walk to my bed without stumbling too much or falling over the loft railing and fell on top of my blankets. After another round of convincing my body it would be better to move, I crawled under the sheets, not even caring about the left-over fur poking me. By the next morning, I woke up only to discover I'd already missed three hours of my shift.


	4. Chapter 3

~ Chapter 3 ~

"Evenin' gorgeous."

"Can it, Chuck."

I was not in a good mood.

Even after showing up late to work—and I'd had to change twice in order to get there—Joseph acted as if nothing had been wrong. But I knew he'd noticed my irritability. I was always irritable after changing a lot. And ten times in two days was _not_ normal for me. Chuck was not helping with his chipper attitude. Who named their kid Chuck anyway?

"There's pasta on the counter if you want any." Paul on the other hand, was being much more helpful. I was in the middle of shoveling noodles in my mouth when my neck bristled. A second later, my nose—passed the strong smell of garlic and tomatoes—told me that someone was none too happy with me.

Chuck was glaring at me with yellow eyes. He was a weak dominant for a reason. He didn't have the best control over his wolf yet. From what little I understood about the pack, Chuck changed shortly before I did. My neck continued to bristle, but my wolf didn't stir. That freaked me out more than Chuck's yellow eyes.

Between one moment and the next, my plate of pasta was on the floor and a very angry wolf pinned me against the counter. Even I could smell my fear.

"Hi Chuck," I said lamely, not even caring that my voice cracked.

"Chuck." Paul's voice was much calmer than mine. And much stronger.

Chuck growled but knew a losing battle when he saw one. Paul was a weak dominant, but not as weak as Chuck. By that logic, Paul outranked Chuck, and I was very, very glad.

"She should learn her place," was barely a growl from Chuck's throat. His breath against my forehead made my hair stand on end. And still, my wolf didn't stir. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paul tilt his head, a very wolfish gesture of curiosity. I didn't bother figuring out what made him curious. With a dominant wolf pinning me to the counter, I had other priorities.

"That's not your job, Chuck." Paul moved closer. His eyes were his normal brown. My chest loosened a smidge. "Leave it to Alex to handle submissives."

I felt Paul's power tingle across my skin. A weak dominant Paul was, true, but he was old. According to rumor, anyway. I hoped that meant he knew what he was doing. After a moment's struggle, Chuck shoved away, and I could finally take a free breath. He growled but didn't dare to meet Paul's eyes. While Chuck skulked away and flipped on the TV, Paul threw a rag at me and grabbed one for himself.

"Thanks," I managed to squeak out quietly, mopping up tomato sauce. Paul scooped the noodles onto a plate and stood to throw them away. I opened my mouth, thinking he hadn't heard me.

"Go to bed, Sam," he said softly, not even looking at me. His power still electrified the air, and I dared not test him. Weak or not, dominant outranked submissive any day. I knew at least that much. I threw my sauce-stained rag away and turned to leave. Paul stopped me with a touch on my arm. "Here." And a plate of pasta magically appeared in his hand. I smiled weakly without meeting his gaze, took the plate, and left. I didn't want to stand around and question dominance struggle; neither did I want to be around the injured pride and brooding mood of Chuck.

My loft was little comfort, but at least I'd hear Chuck—or anyone for that matter—climbing the stairs. I sat in my reading chair, the clink of fork on plate almost drowning out the drone of the TV sportscaster.

I devoured the pasta in minutes, and I almost licked the plate clean. Almost. It was a tempting thought. I set the tray on the floor to take down later, stomach still growling. Side effect of changing so often. And being the cause of a power struggle. I yawned and stretched, wishing I had beef jerky or something stashed under my bed. I rubbed at the crick in my neck instead, trying to ease the muscle that always acted up after changing. Which reminded me: my bathroom was still a wreck from earlier.

"It can wait," I grumbled to myself. Climbing into bed sounded like a much better chore than cleaning fur from the tile and bathtub. As I collapsed on top of my blankets—again—I realized belatedly that I was still wearing clothes. That wouldn't help me sleep. After much struggling, I managed to get my shoes and socks off. I didn't have the energy to tackle my work pants. Even with the venison from the previous night, my body was in a sorry state. My wolf growled as I crawled under my blanket, the heavy quilt a welcome weight.

_Sure, now she reacts_, I thought bitterly, rolling over and shoving my head under my pillow to drown out the TV downstairs. I felt oddly comforted by the presence of my wolf-sister, though why she hadn't shown up earlier, I couldn't guess. Normally dominance struggles drew her out, a reaction to stronger wolves losing control. But she hadn't. Paul. That had to be it. Was Paul really that strong? To control two wolves? And he was second lowest in the pack?

It was too much for my tired brain to figure out on a near-empty stomach. So instead I curled up and closed my eyes, letting the sportscaster's lackluster account of some basketball team dull my wits to sleep.

_Running. Always running. The moon nipping at my heels. Dark trees gnash their teeth, and a distant glow urged me to faster speeds. Leaves crunch beneath my claws, and I stumble over an unseen log. Grass springs up on both sides of the black path, dark spears against a darker forest. The moon bites my heels again, and I kick my feet, dodging an attacking tree and barely avoiding a lancing branch as I dug my claws into shadowy earth and pushed on._

_The glow grows steadily brighter but never closer. Always the blackness roars in my ears, deafening my attempts to hear coming attacks. The ground grabs at my feet, black tendrils like smoke taking shape and snarling as I pass. They snatch at my legs, chilling my fur wherever they touched. But I break away every time somehow. _

_My heart pounds in my chest, distorting my vision with every beat. Like waves of heat at the outer edges of my eyes, the distortion played tricks just as the blackness tried to swallow me by any means necessary. My lungs burn with every breath, the challenge of breathing almost secondary to that of running. _

_Smoke tangles my legs, making me stumble. My nose scrapes through bladed grasses. I smell blood. Snapping at the ensnaring tendril, I drag my legs out of its snare and run. I can't feel my leg. The chill numbs my hip and spreads up my back. No! I have to keep running! I stumble again, unable to feel either of my back legs. Whining, I drag myself through mocking grasses and laughing trees. I have to reach the glow. I have to!_

_More smoke seeps up from the ground and wraps around my legs and body. The cold burns even through my fur. _

_The glow is so close! Safety, I know it, is there. I'll be safe there._

_But the smoke tightens around me, and the grasses shiver in a deadly wind. The moon looms over me, its silver light blinding and burning. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to escape the snares dragging me under the dark wave. The glow is brighter, and I can feel its warmth on my fur, burning the snares._

_But they're tenacious and don't want to let go. I wiggle and struggle, trying to rid myself of them. But I'm too weak. I whine and howl, clawing and biting at the snares slowly numbing every part of me. The glow is so close I can feel its heat burning my icy limbs. Just another inch…if I can get another inch…_

Dark.

No, dark was bad. Dark was very bad.

A light clicked on, and I saw my own hand grabbing the lamp-pull.

Something woke me up. A sound. A voice. Something. But nothing decided to answer my unvoiced challenge. I couldn't speak if I wanted to. My chest hurt for how hard I breathed and how fast my heart beat. Sweat slicked my skin I noticed with a flicker of displeasure. My wolf was on high alert, growling and pacing. How I knew she was pacing, I didn't bother to find out. Kicking off my blanket, I walked to the banister and looked down.

No one was about.

I looked at my alarm clock, wondering why so much light came through the downstairs window. Not a lot of light, but more than the middle of the night should have allowed.

7:43 a.m.

Shit. I was going to be late again. At least I wouldn't have to worry about packing clothes. I was still wearing the ones from the previous day. Oh wait. I'd have to throw them in a bag to change and carry to the store, then change back and put them on. Maybe a new set would be a better idea. I turned toward my dresser, but a growl stopped me mid-step.

I hadn't even smelled him.

Power washed over my skin and raised goose-bumps everywhere.

I turned slowly and dared to search the darkness. My wolf growled at me, angered by the unwanted intrusion. I ignored her for the moment, more concerned with finding the owner of the growl. I knew before seeing his boots that Mac was my guest once again. Two times in two days.

Not a good track record.

I kept my head down despite how much my wolf wanted to drive this intruder away from her den. Hunger motivated her most; fear motivated me. I stayed still.

"Know vat time it is?" Mac's voice grated against my nerves, the subtle German accent sounding odd in so deep a voice. It certainly fit with the earlier growl though. I nodded without looking up. He huffed. "How about the day?"

"Thursday," I said quietly, wishing my hands would cease their attempts to rip off my fingernails.

"Wrong."

That drew my gaze up. Mac growled, reminding me I shouldn't be meeting his eyes. At least they were blue. Normal blue. Not wolf blue. Rumor had it Mac was changed back before WWII as part of Nazi experiments to make their soldiers stronger. It had worked, but the Nazis hadn't been aware of the side-effects of becoming half wolf. It was hard to convince wolves to obey someone weaker than themselves.

"It's Saturday."

Shit.

"You didn't show up for vork. Vhy?"

I swallowed, suddenly feeling like a member of the underground railroad with Jews hiding under my floorboards.

"After vat happened Vednesday night, Alex grew vorried." Why was I not surprised the two strongest in the pack had felt that power struggle? "Chuck and Paul go at it again?"

I shook my head, still trying to find my voice. My wolf-sister started pacing, not liking the interrogation, but I shoved her back.

"You're lying."

Double shit. I forgot about that trick with wolf noses. Strong, sensitive wolves could quite literally smell a lie. Weaker wolves could too from my limited understanding, but not with the accuracy of someone like Mac.

"Chuck took offense to a comment I made, and Paul stepped in." I was not about to admit that Paul probably saved my neck. That implied a debt. Wolves took debts very seriously, especially life-debts. If Paul claimed it, I'd be expected to save his even at the cost of mine.

"And Chuck challenged Paul?"

"Not that I know of." How had I missed Thursday and Friday? Had I really been so tired that I slept two whole days?

"I see." Mac remained silent for so long I thought he had left. I even dared to look up, but there were his boots again. Nope. I wasn't alone yet. I was going to be late for work, at this rate. "So. Vhere have you been these two days?"

Something was up. Something big. Mac wasn't telling me something.

"I guess I slept through them," I said with a one-shoulder shrug. It galled me that I could smell my own fear responding to Mac's dominant presence. Prior to the other night, my only experience with dominants had been Neil, Paul, and Chuck. In fact, they were the only wolves I had ever interacted with outside of full moons. I still didn't trust Mac despite a dominant's instinct to protect the weaker wolves.

I heard Mac shift, but with usual wolf swiftness he was standing in front of me before I could react. He lifted my chin and turned my head from side to side. I stared at his jaw to avoid his critical gaze. He huffed before his hand moved to my shoulder and he stepped back to arm's length, giving me an up-down. Somehow, I didn't think I measured up.

"Don't you eat anyzing?" He didn't give me time to respond. "No matter. You'll hunt vith me today." The frustration in his tone was gone, replaced by a businesslike tone that smacked of Nazi war movies. I wondered briefly if the rumors about Mac were true. "Don't vorry about your shift today. It has been covered." He turned on a heel and walked toward the stairs. "Come. Change and meet me downstairs. You need breakfast before ve hunt."

His footsteps were heavy as he walked down the stairs. No doubt Chuck and Paul knew of the second's presence and wisely stayed out of the way. Even though Chuck rarely woke before noon on weekends, I would bet a week's pay he was awake now.

Mac's boots hitting the bottom of the steps spurred me into action. Thankfully, Mac's order of "change" only meant clothes. How I knew that, I couldn't explain, but I changed quickly and ran a brush through my hair before tying it up. Jeans were very comfortable after my slept-in slacks, and a knit sweater was far more roomy than my work blouse.

"Ready?" Mac's voice reached me from downstairs. He sounded a bit impatient, and I hurried to tie my shoes. After another minute of fighting the laces, I hurried down the stairs. Mac had my jacket waiting and headed out the door while I stuffed my arms through the sleeves. Good thing I wasn't going anywhere fancy.

"Come," Mac instructed in a crisp manner totally polar from the other night. "Ve'll talk in ze car."

I followed obediently, my wolf unusually quiet. Something wasn't right.


	5. Chapter 4

~ Chapter 4 ~

Riding in Mac's BMW was exactly the kind of experience in testosterone I never wanted to experience. He had to be a lawyer or something. Only lawyers and doctors could afford to drive this kind of car. Or at least that's what it seemed when compared with my minimum wage, dead-end job that would never see me in anything nicer than a p.o.s. beater.

Sitting between us was a large bag of sausage biscuits from a drive-thru Bojangles, the number one choice for fried chicken in the southeast. I—to my own embarrassment—ate seven of them before I could stop myself. Mac had given me one of those _looks_, the kind that tell you just how low of an opinion is held of you. Mac was obviously not impressed by my hunger, and I couldn't tell if it was because of how much I ate or how little. I resisted the urge to take an eighth. The other seven sat like rocks in my stomach thanks to the lengthening silence. I didn't dare break it, and Mac seemed perfectly content to let me stew.

"What do you know about Chuck and Paul?"

The question surprised me. I hadn't expected it, though what I had been expecting was anyone's guess. I shrugged my shoulders. "I knew Chuck didn't like Paul, but they seemed to make good roommates." Mac gave a short chuckle. Apparently my response had amused him.

"You could tell who vas more dominant?" It wasn't really a question, but I could see him turn toward me out of the corner of my eye.

I nodded, trying to get my breathing under control. "Paul."

"Before ze ozer night?" The question was an odd one. Had I known before Paul forced Chuck to stand down? I shook my head, my anxiety growing. Something was wrong here, and Mac wasn't telling me.

"I'm surprised it took so long, really," Mac muttered, and I had I not been changed, I wouldn't have heard him. But Mac didn't seem to notice I was listening. "Alex assumed ze problem was dealt vith long ago after ze last challenge vent bad."

"Challenge?"

Shit. Wrong thing to ask. Mac glared at me briefly, and even I could smell my fear spike from it. After a moment, Mac seemed to gather himself with a deep breath.

Mac said nothing for a while, and the hair on my neck tingled. Still, my wolf remained quiet, for some reason placated by the presence of the much more dominant Mac. It left me incredibly alone in my own head. I grabbed that eighth sausage biscuit just to occupy my hands.

"He might not look it, but Charles is an old volf."

_That_ caught me off guard. My eyes locked on Mac before I could stop them, but Mac stared at the road instead, easily navigating the windy curves of the park roads.

"It vas probably unvise to put you vith him, as young as you are." I kept my eyes rooted on the dashboard in front of me, paying particular attention to the grain of the leather. If I didn't move, maybe he would keep talking. "You're…inexperience vould have been difficult for him, so anozer volf vas needed."

Paul.

"Paul volunteered to move in to make sure he stayed human." I couldn't help the shiver, so I hugged my arms, burying into the seat and trying my best not to exist.

"Old dominants can be dangerous." All dominants can be dangerous, I wanted to say but held my tongue. "Vizout Paul, there vas no telling how Charles vould react to a young volf."

So why not just leave Chuck? Why Paul? As if Mac read my mind, he continued.

"Paul has never trusted Charles, and he is the more dominant of ze two. Charles knew zis, but his control is…shaky," Mac said with one of those hand wiggles that indicated instability. Suddenly I was a lot more afraid to go home after this jaunt was over. "Charles made ze challenge after your little…incident. Paul taking control sent him over ze edge."

This was more than I'd ever been told about the pack. What I knew about the hierarchy Neil had drilled into my head the first few months after I was changed. He was also the one who told me why I was so scared all the time, that I was a submissive, a wolf with the desire to obey the dominants to earn their protection. He had told me that as a submissive, I had no rank or purpose other than to be protected and add strength of numbers to the pack. From his explanation, I gathered that I was cursed by the change, and that was all I needed to know. But here Mac was giving information without question, and he had my complete attention. Well, other than the fact he was dominant, but the information was a far better reason to pay attention.

Mac snorted when I said nothing. What was there to say? I just wanted to listen and sort what I was being told.

"You vere lucky to have slept zrough it," Mac said, glancing toward me with a half-smile and a chuckle. I continued to stare at the dashboard, not daring to meet his gaze even while he was amused for God knew what reason. "Ze challenge itself vas quite…boisterous, though ze fight vas quick." I didn't say anything, still hoping Mac would continue his stream of information. I had missed a lot while I slept. "Ze challenge ended badly for Charles. Zey stayed human, so it vas not a fight to ze death, but he is in ze safe room for his own safety."

The safe room. Neil had told me about those. Reinforced rooms with silver bars in the plaster and the door to keep a rabid werewolf in. I hadn't known they were used for healing wolves as well.

"Why tell me this?" I grit my teeth, angry at my shaky voice. The sausage and biscuits in my stomach turned from rocks to lead. Mac inhaled a long breath and snorted. Was my fear that obvious? Well, riding in a car didn't allow for much air flow.

"Alex thought you should be prepared vhen your new roommate arrives tomorrow." Somehow I didn't think that was the whole answer, but my nose told me it wasn't a lie. As far as I could tell, anyway. I hadn't quite learned to smell a lie yet. If a submissive even could. "You vill be comfortable vith someone else, yes?"

Now I got to nod. And since the answer was obvious, I didn't bother speaking. I didn't really have a choice. Besides, I didn't trust my voice anyway.

"_Sehr gut._" Mac switched to German sometimes, his accent definitely authentic. He sounded exactly like the movie Germans. Whether that made his accent truly authentic, I had no idea, but it sounded authentic to me. "He is anozer dominant. Ve have so few females, fewer submissives such as yourself."

Now there was a confidence booster. I was two of the lowest pack ranks combined into one werewolf. And still my wolf was silent despite the insult to injury.

"Who taught you to control ze wolf?"

_Again,_ Mac caught me off guard. I really wished he would stop doing that. I shifted uncomfortably, turning to stare out the window at the small river the road followed. I couldn't remember its name.

"Neil." I didn't have breath for more than that.

Mac grunted at the admission and remained silent. I had the distinct feeling he was displeased about something as he turned onto a Forest Service road leading away from the river and normal human picnic sites.

"You vere changed…nine months ago?" Again, it wasn't really a question, but I nodded anyway. Mac grunted again. "Not even a year zen. Hmm. _Und…_how long did it take before you accepted her?"

My wolf roused. I felt her stir in that part of my mind that was simply _other_. She growled, and I felt her draw close. I closed my eyes and grit my teeth, bile rising in my throat with how strong my wolf wanted out. She wanted to protect me from the series of questions, knowing I did not like interrogations. She threw herself at my restraints.

I didn't even feel the car stop before Mac pulled me from it and stood over me, face inches from mine. His eyes gleamed yellow, and I growled, my wolf's defiance against the dominant trying to hold her down. I struggled under Mac's weight, my heart in my throat and my vision clouding. My wolf rose to protect me, thinking I was in danger. To be honest, I didn't know if I really was, but having the pack second pinning me to the ground…yeah. Not conducive to a calm mind.

Just as soon as she was there, my wolf quieted reluctantly. My skin tingled with Mac's power as he forced my wolf down. Even with the desire to protect me, my wolf wasn't close to strong enough to think of challenging a dominant.

Mac cocked his head at me, his eyes boring into mine. I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. I knew my eyes were returning grey as my wolf departed, taking her protection with her. I suddenly felt exposed. The cold ground made me shiver. It was the ground. It _was_.

"Hn," Mac grunted at me, easily controlling his own wolf with the ease he controlled mine. There was a reason he was pack second and I was at the bottom. His eyes were still yellow as they stared into mine, his wolf reacting to my fear, and mine once again rousing.

"N-neil taught me," I said in a rush, not even caring about the stutter. I was perfectly fine with admitting fear in this case. Mac could kill me in a second. What he was looking for, I had no clue, but his scrutiny terrified me. His strength turned my stomach. I regretted that eighth biscuit.

Mac took a deep breath in. Was he savoring my fear? Did he like scaring the shit out of submissives? I seriously considered the rumors about Mac to be absolutely true. He fit the cruel Nazi stereotype while pinning me down.

The shock of being able to breathe took several moments to pass. He was off of me. I stared at the sky, trying to calm my frantic heart. I rolled onto my stomach and curled over my knees, head resting against the cold gravel of the parking lot. My body shook, and my wolf growled. Mac was still a threat, so she hovered right at the limit of his control. I knew she was just waiting for an opportunity.

"Come," Mac ordered as if nothing had happened. "Ze trail is this way. Ve'll change here and be on our way."


End file.
